Unwanted Visitor
by Shadowseeker170
Summary: Set during Suze's first winter in Carmel, but after her and Jesse's first kiss, time tweak, Suze is just starting to feel comfortable in her new home when she receives a desperate call for help that disrupts her serene lifestyle...but is the call serious?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: If I owned any of Meg Cabot's work, I wouldn't be posting this here, would I?... So, this is just a little idea I came up with today. It's set during the first winter of Suze's stay in Carmel, aka mandarin season in Central California. Jesse is, whether fortunately or unfortunately, still a ghost (unfortunately for me at least, because I can't see him to snatch him away for myself). If it totally sucks, don't hesitate to tell me.

Oranges (for lack of a better title)

_I will never eat another mandarin orange again_, I thought to myself as I peeled yet another miniature citrus.

Now that it was mandarin season, Andy had taken it upon himself to fly down to Palermo, California (wherever that is), which is supposedly this prime mandarin-growing spot, where he proceeded to buy ten five-pound boxes of barely ripe mandarins to experiment with. Which meant, of course, that I was the lucky bastard to peel them – every last one.

My cuticles were ruined.

Oh sure, Sleepy or Dopey might come in to the kitchen every so often to peel a few – which they promptly shoved into the bottomless pits that are their stomachs. Not very helpful, you see.

And what's more, I haven't seen Jesse in four days. I know he thinks things are getting "a bit out of hand", as he puts it, between us, and feels like he's doing "the right thing" – rolls eyes - by staying at the rectory, but you'd think he would at least say hello once in a while. I mean, what if I, like, fell down the stairs or something when I was the only one home? I could crack my head open! It could happen.

My musings were interrupted by a sharp sting in my eye. I looked down at my hands in confusion, only to see a drop of orangey fluid well up out of a small hole in the latest mandarin's skin before dribbling onto my fingers. Realization hit me. Shit.

I dropped that spawn-of-Satan orange back in the box like it was on fire as my eye started watering. I ran to the sink, where my mom keeps a bottle of saline handy, and was unsuccessfully trying to juggle a towel under my eye and the saline when a pair of cool, faintly glowing hands gently tugged both the towel and the saline bottle out of my grasp.

"Here," a deep, velvet-smooth voice said quietly from behind me. "Let me help you with that."

A/N: Okay, so it's not much. But really, can you blame me? I didn't want to write an entire novel or something only to have a bunch of people tell me it sucked. So please, before I continue, let me know if I even should! I would appreciate it like crazy!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Okay, so here's the revised version of the second chapter. Let me know if it's any better, pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaase. Thanks!

Chapter Two

My heart froze in my chest and I gasped in shock, before realizing who it must be. It was about time, let me tell you. I began to turn, my heart now beating double time.

"Hey, Jes–" My words died in my throat as I looked at the ghost standing so close to me. Because no way, in Heaven or Hell, was this man the ghost I was hopelessly in love with.

"Hello, Miss Simon," he said, attempting – and not quite succeeding – to mask the utter loathing in his voice with what can only be described as pleasure. I quickly got over my disbelief though, and said with false cheer, "Hi there, Mr. Beaumont!" Yeah. _That _Mr. Beaumont. The same one who had tried to kill me – and his perfectly nice nephew – only a little while back. Apparently jail had been too much for this guy.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" I continued pleasantly.

"Don't give me that attitude, girl. We've already professed our mutual hate," he cut in venomously. So much for being polite. I snaked out of his hold, careful not to touch him lest he have some kind of poisonous skin in his spirit form – hey, stranger things have happened – and stepped back slowly, towards the knife drawer. Beaumont tossed the saline bottle in the sink but held on to the towel, slowly twisting it into a long (okay, so as long as a hand towel can get) rope in his hands. "Instead," he continued, his eyes on the towel, "let's get right down to business, shall we? No beating around the bush, like the last time I was lucky enough to have to deal with you." His eyes grew suddenly hard, and he broke his gaze on the towel to glare at me through his eyebrows. He took a small step towards me before flicking his eyes back to the towel. "See, Miss Simon, ever since I mysteriously disappeared – thanks to you – I admit to feeling a bit…cheated." He stalked towards me, still slowly, eyes remaining on that towel. That towel which, I might add, wasn't looking to friendly just now. I slid open the knife drawer and extracted the biggest one my fingers could find without moving too much; I sent out a silent thanks to Andy for keeping the drawers so well greased. Keeping the knife behind my back and my eyes on the menacing ghost, who was now only three feet away, I shut the drawer and slid still farther away.

"Really?" I asked, figuring it was best to keep him distracted as long as I could.

"Yes," Marcus Beaumont replied, still moving towards me with unhurried steps.   
"See, I feel that every person has the right to try to make something of themselves in their lifetime…but, as you can see, _my _lifetime has come to an abrupt end. And, quite frankly, I blame _you_." With this last sentence, the half-crazed man raised the towel above my head and lunged at me, obviously expecting me to move away. I say 'obviously' because he lunged father forward than was necessary for his cause, although it suited mine perfectly.

As he jumped forward in the hopes of throwing the towel around my neck, I whipped the knife from behind my back and drove it with all my weight into his sternum. I was rewarded with a heartfelt grunt of pain as Mr. Beaumont slumped against my shoulder. Not one to waste time idling, I removed the knife from his chest and slammed the butt of the handle into his temple; he slid to the floor, unconscious.

I cleaned off the knife blade, even though the blood was only visible to me, and put it away before dragging Marcus' limp form out the back door to the grass outside. I ran back inside and grabbed everything I would need for an exorcism (since it was obvious that Mr. Beaumont wasn't going away of his own accord) and, checking to make sure no one else in the house had heard my brief scuffle, dashed back outside to the still unconscious – thankfully – ghost on my mother's mulch.

ζ

An hour or so later, I cleaned up the mess left over from Mr. Beaumont's exorcism. He had struggled quite a lot, surprisingly, as he was unconscious the whole time. Unsettling images of the crazed man twitching involuntarily caused the bile that had risen to my throat the first time he had lurched threatened to come up again, and I grabbed my candles and stood up quickly.

"You know how Father Dominic despises Brazilian exorcisms," a deep, familiar voice said as I turned around to go into the house. I yelped and dropped the bundle I had in my arms at the voice, and at the sight of a tall, distinctly masculine figure leaning against the side of the house I was about to enter. I bent to pick up a stray rock, peering closer at the figure as I did so. Suddenly it dawned on me – this was no vengeful ghost. Oh, no. This ghost was one I had been waiting an awfully long time to see.

"_Jesse_!" I yelled, rather loudly. I dropped the rock and hurled myself at him as he started across the few feet of grass between us. His arms went around me reflexively as I crashed into him, hugging him tight. Then I noticed the tense way he held his body, angling it slightly away from mine. "Jesse?" My initial happiness grew to worry. "What's wrong?" But his eyes were amused as he looked down at me.

"Don't you think the neighbors will be a bit confused when they see you hugging air, Susannah?" he asked practically. Oops. I backed up quickly, bending to gather my things from the ground once more. He laughed without humor before fading with the words, "I'll meet you in your room, _Querida_."

I really needed to find out what that word meant. Really. I mean, he could have been suggesting something more than just a simple conversation by that phrase. _I'll meet you in your room, Querida._ That _querida _could be significant. Hmmm…then again, the distinctively humorless laugh he had given might have been a sign as to his behavior too…why do men have to be so damned hard to read? Or rather, the ones I am romantically interested in? I don't have any problem telling what's going on inside Dopey's head, that's for sure.

I snuck up to my room, watchful of anyone who might get curious at the sight of all my Brazilian exorcism stuff. I had just dumped my bundle in the back of my closet when my shoulders were seized by two strong, glowing hands and spun firmly around before being abruptly let go. I stumbled into the wall, faintly dizzy. I shook my head to regain focus.

Jesse sat on the window seat and looked over my appearance with careful scrutiny, checking out the view down my tight, ribbed tank top. I wish. More likely checking for any signs of injury. This is the story of my life.

"Susannah," he began, carefully keeping the anger in his voice under control, "would you like to explain to me what, exactly, just happened?"

I sighed gustily and dropped onto my bed like a stone, suddenly exhausted. Participating in a wrestling match (of sorts) and then performing an exorcism can do that you know. I sighed once more, collecting my thoughts into the most straight-forward explanation my tired brain could manage, and told Jesse my story.

ζ

A/N: Okay, so there's the revised version. Was that okay? I just thought the whole "hello, _querida_"thing was too…un-Jesse-like. Am I right? Or no? I would appreciate any reviews, if you guys have the time. – Over and Out –


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So, I know it's been a while, thanks to all the die-hards that are still with me…sorry it's taken so long to update; I've just been HELLA busy (no, I won't ever write or say "hella" again). Unfortunately, I have to go back to school on Monday, so it'll take a while to update again. If you get the chance, I would appreciate it if you took a look at chapter two again – I changed it up a wink, so if I could get some honest opinions on it that would be cool. And now, here is the long-awaited (gods, I hope so) CHAPTER TRES!!!

Chapter Three

My explanation was highly anti-climactic: Jesse didn't sweep me into his arms out of fear for my safety or anything. He just made the mirror rattle a bit, until he finally cooled off. We'll ignore the fact that he only cooled off because he disappeared, probably to go tell Father D. about the whole thing. Do I come off as the unreliable type, or something? Because it's like every time some little thing happens, Jesse's off telling Father Dom about it. Gawd.

I was just getting ready to hop in the shower when Dopey stopped short of breaking down the door to get my attention – he had learned the hard way what happens when he opens my door without knocking first.

"Suze!" he yelled like there was a brick wall instead of a flimsy old door standing between us. "Suze! Dinner! Hurry up!" I've found that it's easier for Dopey to get his point across through short exclamations rather than complete sentences. Poor guy.

"Okay," I called in a perfectly normal, _inside_ voice. I turned off the shower with regret – doubtless I smelled like mulch. And God knows what I looked like (I had carefully avoided looking into all mirrors). You know, if there even is a god. Because in my current state, I was seriously beginning to doubt it. I sighed – something I seemed to be doing a lot lately – and headed out the door, carefully shutting it behind me.

Mom was entirely too happy to see me as I took my seat at the table, gushing about the latest gossip from her Martha Stewart decorating buddies. I kept my face politely interested and tried not to vomit when Doc passed me the platter of homemade pizza slices. Normally I wouldn't have been at all adverse to pizza, but it's swimsuit season pretty much year round here, so I was being careful. Besides, how was I going to wear my new Stewart Weitzmans if I was too fat to fit into my skirt?

"Susie, honey," my mother's voice interrupted my musings. "Aren't you hungry, sweetie?" I looked at my plate – it was empty. Since I felt more like taking a shower than eating anything in my disgusting state, I shook my head.

"Not really, Mom. I'm just really tired." And I wasn't even lying this time. The look of concern on my mother's face deepened as she took in my disheveled appearance for the first time. Or maybe it was disgust. I _did _smell pretty raunchy, I admit.

"Well, why don't you just go take a shower and get some sleep then? You have to be well enough to go shopping tomorrow, remember." Ugh. Shopping with my mother. The very thought made what little food I had eaten that day sit like lead in my stomach.

"Okay," I said, now more glad than ever that I was excused. I took my plate into the kitchen and put it back in the cupboard, since it was still clean, then trudged slowly up to my room.

ζ

I had just stepped out of the shower and was pulling back the sheets on my bed when there was a quiet knock on the door. I sighed and called, "Come in." Doc opened the door as little as possible and slid into my room.

"Are you…alone?" he asked, glancing furtively around the room. I nodded heavily, barely able to keep my head from staying down on my chest where it wanted to be. "I just, um, have a question. And then you can sleep," he said quickly, obviously noticing my bobbing head. "On second thought," he added, eyeing me like a specimen that was both fascinating and grotesque, "maybe I'll just ask you tomorrow. Yeah. Um, 'night, Suze…" he finished weakly, sliding back outside. I couldn't even summon the strength to wave.

I attempted to climb into bed the rest of the way – had my bed always been this far above the ground? – and finally gave up, allowing myself to slither onto the floor. I was closing my eyes in defeat when a soft, spectral glow crept under my eyelids, forcing my eyes back open.

"Wha–?" I started. God, I was pathetic. I couldn't even form a complete sentence, much less a word. I was calmly reveling in that fact when I was suddenly – but gently – lifted off the floor and put into bed, at apparently no injury at all to my helper. _Why wasn't it that easy for me? _I wondered grudgingly, but without real vigor. The last conscious thought I had as my head sank into the pillow wasn't really a thought at all, just recognition as I heard that deep, silky voice that I loved:

"Sleep well, _Querida_."

A/N: There. There's your moment of lurve. How was it? I know this chapter was kinda shortsie, and I apologize – I had to write this as quickly as possible so I could upload it before I lost power again. Damn storm. Anyway, tell me how it was, pleasey. Thanks ever so!


	4. Chapter 4

A / N: Okay guys, I'm totally sorry I haven't updated in so long. Apparently my teachers don't believe in that whole "easing the students back into school work" thing. Assholes. Thanks to all of you who have been reviewing diligently, I love you for it. Anyway, I hope this chapter is okay; I seem to be suffering from severe writer's block lately. Why, I have no idea…anyway, I'm open to all kinds of reviews – tell me what I can do to improve, yadda yadda yadda. I was hoping to make this chapter really long, but I needed to get this baby updated ASAP. By the way, if there are tons of grammatical and spelling errors, I have a perfectly valid explanation to give before you stab my eye with a spork.

Chapter 4

I rolled over, freshly awake, and groaned as I remembered the torture my mother had planned for me today. Shopping. I seriously doubted the existence of any kind of god at that moment.

A quiet knocked sounded at the door. "Susie?" my mother's voice called out quietly. "You awake, honey?" I sighed and slid out of bed, silently dreading the day before me.

"Yeah, Mom," I answered, trying to keep the despair from creeping into my voice. "I'm just going to go take a shower." I heard a shuffling on the other side of the door as my mom began to walk away with a murmured "Okay, hon".

I fell back onto my bed, wishing I could have been born some kind of sentient being with amazing magical powers instead of a person who could see and talk to ghosts. Whoever created mediators really is an asshole. But, I reasoned, if I was unable to interact with ghosts, then I never would have met Jesse.

Jesse. There was another unresolved conflict. Ever since that kiss I had been foolishly certain that things would start looking up in that department…stupid, stupid me. I turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up, still wallowing in self-pity, and walked out into my room to pick an outfit for the day. I shuffled past the bed and was halfway to the closet when I heard an unusual – and yet familiar – growl, and darted my gaze over to the window seat where the maker of that growl-turned-purr was sure to be. There he was, the little demon. Spike. And yet, I couldn't keep my sour mood from lifting when I saw the faint outlines of a ghost as Spike's favorite person – and mine, I admit – materialized in front of me.

"Good morning, Susannah," he said, voice rumbling deep in his chest. I feigned polite disinterest as I slid past him to my closet. He was less likely to disappear that way (believe me; I've had practice with this). I shuffled idly through my hangers, finally deciding on a black silk tee with cap sleeves and my favorite knee-length denim skirt. After all, I was going to the mall, and who knew what amazing shoes I might be forced to try on there? Couldn't be giving a free show to the salesman now, could I? Resting my clothes on my forearm, I sidled past Jesse again before deeming it an appropriate time to answer – ten and a half seconds after he spoke. Not that I was counting.

"Hello, Jesse," I was getting good at this disinterest thing. "How are you this morning?" I finished, depositing my clothes on the bed and going back to the closet to look for a pair of shoes.

He turned to face me each time I passed him, so I could hear him quite clearly when he said, and rather shortly, "I am fine. The priest, however, is not." Shit. I had forgotten about that. Trying not to sigh too gustily, I turned to face him.

"About Marcus Beaumont? God, what did I do wrong _now_?" I asked, desperation finally creeping into my voice. Really, after having to deal with him, and then my mom, you'd think that some people would at least have the decency to wait until the subject of their ravings felt more _human_. I was about to repeat all this to Jesse when I noticed the look of utter confusion on his face…wait, _confusion_? What the hell? "Jesse?" I prompted, and his expression turned back to polite disinterest. (Um, hello? That was supposed to be _my _expression, thanks very much!)

"That is not what I meant, Susannah." Now it was my turn to be confused.

"What? but you said –"

"I know what I said, Susannah." He interrupted harshly. I felt my mask of confusion trickle away, only to be replaced by one of shock. He noticed, apparently, because the hard glint in his eyes softened. "When I said that the priest was not fine," he continued, calmly this time, "I meant that your Father Dominic was not fine, _physically_." It took a minute for the words to sink in. Physically? What was that supposed to mean? Realization struck, and I felt my breath leave me in a sharp rush.

"What?! Where is he? What's happened?!" Rather than stand around and wait for an answer, I dove into my closet and grabbed an old pair of jeans and my motorcycle jacket with one hand, simultaneously reaching for my ghost busting tool belt with the other. Jesse, apparently understanding that I was planning on doing whatever was in my power to help Father D. after watching my actions in silence (did I mention that he's highly observant? Um, _not_), held up his hands, palms out, as I rushed towards him.

"Wait, Susannah, just wait a moment. You have an engagement with your mother today, don't you?" God, like that really mattered? I kept the impatience out of my voice with difficulty.

"Yes, Jesse, but I really think that Father Dom's well-being is more important than Christmas shopping. Now please, would you tell me what's going on? Where's Father D.?" Jesse started shaking his head before I even finished.

"Susannah, the priest is going to be alright, eventually. I just wanted to let you know –"

"_Eventually_?!" I practically shrieked. "_**Eventually?!**_" I dropped everything I held in my hands then and grabbed Jesse's shirtfront in my fists. "Jesse, if you don't tell me what's going on _right this second_, I swear I will –"

"What, Susannah?" he cut me off again, grasping my wrists with his iron strength and pulling them firmly from his shirt. "Go rushing down to the mission to see what's going on? Despite the fact that if you would just _listen_ you would understand that everything is under control and the priest is already at the hospital? That all he has is a minor concussion after being hit in the head with a large potted plant?" he continued, his voice rising. "That he was hit in the head because he managed to anger a very temperamental ghost?" I felt my eyes widen as he related his story, the outing with my mother temporarily forgotten.

"What? When did this happen, Jesse?" I had to remind myself that, unlike Jesse's, my voice would be heard if I raised it. Breathe in, breathe out. Right.

"Just this morning," he answered absently. "Listen, Susannah, you must not leave this house today." His statement brought me out of my shock. Not go out? As in, not go shopping with Mom? I wish.

"Jesse...I can't. Mom has been waiting for this day for a year – I can't just cancel on her all of a sudden, and for no apparent reason! Besides, _why_? The ghost wasn't after me, it was after Father D." I subconsciously cocked my head to the side, like when Max does when he's waiting for me to dump my leftovers into his bowl. Only, I wasn't exactly waiting for food.

Still keeping hold of my wrists, Jesse pulled me over to the bed and pushed me gently onto it, his face now alighted with worry. "No, Susannah," he said, even more gently now. There was something else in his voice too…was that concern? "The ghost attacked the priest because Father Dominic refused to tell him where _you_ were."

A / N: Ah ha! How was that, my lovelies? I confess, I had no idea where this was going when I started this chapter…tell me, how was it? Are you very upset with me? whimpers I know it's kind of short, but my piece of parental started bothering me halfway through it. Well, it _is _almost 12:00 AM….anyway, please review if you have the time. I'm not going to say that I won't update until I get 10 reviews or whatever; I hate it when people do that. Remember, any suggestions or constructive criticisms are welcome! TTFN!


	5. NOTICE

Okay guys. Here's the thing. I am suffering from a chronic case of writer's block right now, and I think I owe it to you to let my faithful reviewers know that. If any of you have totally given up on me, I don't blame you at all.

So I have devised a plan to get me more ideas…

Whaddya say to a…contest?

Whoever can guess (or give me a good enough idea to use) who this ghost chasing after our Suze is, you just might get to be in my story…don't worry, you'll get recognition. So if anyone out there who is still with me has an idea of who this person is, send me a message! You'll find out if you're right or wrong…and if you're right, you get to be "Featured" (ooh, big word) in my story! Party!

Go go go!


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